


How Lonely is the Forest I Grow In?

by MistysGatorTeeth



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Alternative Universe - bookstore, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Secrets, Shameless Smut, With A Twist, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistysGatorTeeth/pseuds/MistysGatorTeeth
Summary: Cordelia finds a companion amongst the books of her shop // Misty finds solace in the wind storm of life in a blonde bookkeeper.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	How Lonely is the Forest I Grow In?

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, there’s a pretty weird twist to this, and I’m not telling any of you until you find out <3

Cordelia loves her little grove of bookshelves; colorful covers that lovingly get dusted through the day from A to Z and all the little titles in between. Her simple black heels click on the hardwood floor of  _ Robichaux Books  _ and her reading glasses, with their thin black frames and the unavoidable fingerprint on the right lens where she pushes them up each time they slip down her nose as she looks over a book for imperfections - she feels like she’s  _ home,  _ even if the busy street of downtown New Orleans sounds of cars and horses clip-clopping down the brick main road. 

But - in addition to the hustle and bustle of a tourist-filled summer Sunday in July, from the section of  _ Botany and Beautifying your Gardens!  _ comes the mystical voice of Stevie Nicks, belting out the chorus of  _ Edge of Seventeen  _ in the middle of her quiet storefront. 

There, knelt on the floor and looking spooked and frantically trying to plug her headphones back into the silver iPod that’s clasped in her palm, is someone straight out of one of the romance novels three rows over. Honey blonde hair that’s unruly and curly from root to tip, tied in a yellow bandana that keeps it away from the woman’s face. Her face; it’s tinted red with an embarrassed blush as her distraught blue eyes settle on Cordelia’s form that’s stepping into the aisle - she’s got sun kissed freckles splattered across her nose, and the roundness to her face is adorable as she smiles with an unsteady apology. 

“I think it broke, I’m so sorry.” The woman’s voice fits her quite well, a southern blend of both the native cajun charm but her words roll easily and not harsh on the ears. Cordelia finds herself flushing. The bottom of her stomach flips to the top, the  _ swoosh  _ of it fluttering into butterflies. The volume lowers on the song until it’s little more than a whisper and you can once again hear the clock by the cash register. “I’m real sorry - one minute, I’m reading this fascinating article about  _ companion planting  _ and the next thing I know, my Stevie’s practically serenading the girl scouts outside!” 

She laughs, an airy giggle sort of laugh that matches with her slightly out of breath tone. 

“It’s fine!” Cordelia rushes to assure this lovely stranger, her hands smoothing down the front of her black apron nervously. The fabric tugs around her neck, underneath the collar of her olive green blouse. “Don’t worry about it,” and at the woman’s unconvinced expression, she continues, “Serious! Nobody’s shopping for books in hundred-and-four degree weather outside.” 

  
  


“So I’m Nobody, huh?” It’s playful.  _ A different time, place, Cordelia might’ve labeled the lift of the corner of the stranger’s mouth flirty.  _ Her mouth pops open and shuts as she thinks quickly, before opening again. 

“I never said that.” Cordelia tries to smirk herself, though it probably paints across her face as more of a greeting smile than anything  _ flirty.  _ Not that they are. No, they’re just talking.  _ Meeting each other!  _ Cordelia kicks herself into action, “I didn’t get your name though.”

“Misty. Misty  _ Day.  _ Like the weather condition and the time.” She tilts her head to the side, it makes her hair fall toward the lower side and exposes the sunburn on her neck. “I’m quite the fan of both of them, so I like it just fine.”

Oh,  _ oh.  _ The glint of the yellow-tinted lights from above them in Misty’s blue eyes is rearranging Cordelia’s thoughts faster than she can straighten them out. “I’m Cordelia Goode. This is my shop, actually.”

“I got the name by the lil’ badge right  _ there.”  _ Misty’s finger raises and she points ( _ for a moment, Cordelia thinks she’s going to tap the little enamel pin on her chest and she holds her breath, but the impact of a fingertip doesn’t come)  _ at the little thing. “I didn’t think  _ owner,  _ though.”

Cordelia’s nose scrunches a little, “Why?” 

“Call me old fashioned-”  _ Old fashion,  _ Cordelia has to hold her tongue, looking at Misty’s outfit. Her dark scarlet red skirt is just about the only antiquated thing about her. Her shirt is a floral printed button-up, the sleeves rolled up into a tank top sort of look. The buttons popped down about  _ three,  _ showing off beauty marks on her collarbone. Her arms are toned with work and from their darkened color, most likely work in the sun. There’s a simple line art tattoo of a buttercup flower on her bicep, the thin inkwork complimenting the fact she smells like fresh-cut grass and the soil of a flower bed. Misty scoffs a little, but it’s like she’s trying to get herself to speak; like she’s nervous a bit, herself. “I always thought of book store owners as mean old ladies, you know. Not a pretty blonde woman who’s been all too kind to me.”

_ Pretty, pretty, pret- did she really say that?  _ Ugh, if only Myrtle could see her now, confused about whether her hearing is heading out the door along with her heterosexuality. 

“I would say you’re out of your element too,” Cordelia gestures to the shelf of herbology books to their left. “But you seem pretty at home here, yeah?” 

“I’d say that too.” Misty nods in agreement. Cordelia’s eyes flicker down, her lower legs exposed and her dirty brown boots. There are bruises on her legs - actually, she has quite a few on her. Cataloging the information, Cordelia eases into the conversation trying to brush off the greenish, purpled skin on Misty’s wrist. 

“Companion planting, you said?” Cordelia reaches toward her books, fingers touching each cover before settling on a dark green binding that slides out of its place with an easy tug. “This one has some fantastic tips on using sunflowers in your garden. Here - Take it.” 

“Sunflowers?” 

“They’ll bring in more bees,” Cordelia explains easily, “I swear, it increased my yields at least double last year, and they’re so pretty too, don’t you think?” 

Misty’s eyes dart down, and then up, they look her over and it’s like she’s in high school again. Her mouth’s dry, and Cordelia can’t help but tug on the bottom of her shirt. Misty’s features relax, and she agrees softly, “Yeah, real pretty.” 

Then she clears her throat; it’s cute, how she brushes off her own dazed expression. What was she thinking about? It nags at Cordelia’s brain. “I’m awful thankful for the offer but I’ve always been much more of a visual learner; so-” 

“Oh,” Cordelia’s tone drops, her eyes fall and the easy smile that’s kept itself on her face seems to settle in a confused frown. “I’m sorry, I thought-” 

“Cordelia,”

“-that you-”

“Cor- _ delia.”  _

She stops rambling, “Yes?” 

“I was trying to ask you if you’d like to go  _ visualize  _ some of those sunflowers with me this Friday, maybe some dinner too?” 

* * *

Misty’s idea of visualizing companion planting techniques is quite literally just  _ buying  _ flowers Cordelia tells her compliment each other in the garden - and a few that seem to catch her eye even if they’re just for show. Sprouts of lavender fragrance the air from where they sit in the basket on Misty’s hip. 

“I like this place,” Misty speaks, her fingers reaching up to touch the trailing blooms of a pendulous geranium with petals a coral red - a shade or two lighter than the short but long-sleeved dress Misty wears. “It’s like walking in, and the life just seeps into your pores.” 

_ I like that,  _ Cordelia loves her plants, but the idea of them radiating life like that, it’s a lovely conception she can get behind. The air smells like the hose water used to water the plants as it clings to the breeze. The summer sun is  _ hot  _ but setting on their adventure. The taste of the one strawberry daiquiri Cordelia had at dinner still lingers on her breath when she laughs and the flavor sits on her tongue. It tingles her senses and she bumps her knuckles into Misty’s; not quite grabbing her hand, but ready for an opportunity. “Plants are much easier than animals.” Cordelia replies, “They’re much fuller of life, I think. They have a little to spare.” 

“Animals?” Misty raises her eyebrows. It’s golden hour - her hair is messy and the little flyaway strands get haloed in the yellow tinted light. “Oh ‘Delia, animals are  _ packed  _ with life. Have you ever seen an alligator roll a deer?” 

“An alligator roll a  _ wh-”  _

“Animals, plants,” Misty shrugs, ignoring the shocked look on Cordelia’s face almost banteringly purposeful. “They’ve got more spark in them than any people I’d met before.” 

“Seems you aren’t meeting the right people.” 

Misty’s brows draw together, and Cordelia worries a moment she’s struck a nerve better left untouched. But - the dismayed look clears faster than it had appeared. “I’d say that too, but it looks like my luck’s done a bit of changing as of recently.” 

**Author's Note:**

> reviews make me write faster :3


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